


Dexterity

by pinetreelady



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinetreelady/pseuds/pinetreelady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her voice is low, throaty, when she says, “Please tell me what you want, Derek,” and she punctuates it by pressing down with her index finger, and he can feel his muscles flexing and giving against the pressure.</p>
<p>He shudders and draws a ragged breath. “I want it to be you, Braeden, all you, up inside me.” He opens his eyes and sees her looking at him so intensely. “Not just your fingers, but I want you to knot me with your … your fist, okay?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dexterity

**Author's Note:**

> There's been some brilliant Braeden/Derek porn floating around in the past few days. I'm thinking particularly of [elisera's series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/151544) and [halfhardtorock's knotting piece](http://halfhardtorock.tumblr.com/post/97445614193/would-you-be-able-to-comment-on-the-idea-of-braeden) and [eeyore9990's bit on Braeden taking care of her guns](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com/post/97437793288/interlude#notes). (My story builds on what happened in halfhardtorock's--that Braeden knotted Derek with a toy.)
> 
> When chatting with elisera, all these things kind of coalesced into Derek having a fixation on Braeden's hands, and loving it when she knotted him, and what if he needed her to knot him with her fist.
> 
> Many thanks to elisera for the title and so much more.
> 
> Cross-posted from [my tumblr](http://pinetreekate.tumblr.com/).

.i.

It's her hands, Derek thinks, how good she is with them, and not just ... not just in a sex way. Watching Braeden load her guns, break down her guns, her assurance and ability. Hell, watching her drive or eat or even something as mundane as chopping an onion, sweeping it into the pan as he stirs. She's got an efficiency, an economy to her movements, a kind of grace, that he's really only ever seen in other 'wolves. 

But just because it's not only a sex thing doesn't mean that it doesn't do things for him in bed, watching her confidence in getting what she wants, her ability to use both their bodies for her pleasure and his. 

She's not dainty and delicate, not by a long shot, but she’s not as big as he is, and part of Derek loves it: that, despite her strength and confidence, he’s still bigger in all ways. Her thighs and her arms are so strong; she doesn't need anyone to protect her. She's not helpless, but he loves that his hands can cover her breasts, her ass, that he can lift her. Loves watching how much of her arms or legs or torso his hands take up on her body, even though she’s not tiny.

He knows it's fulfilling something kind of base in him, that he's just bigger than she is; still, he's always surprised by how fragile she can seem when he's looking at her wrists, her ankles, her feet, her amazing hands. He can cover her fist with his own, hide her hand completely in both of his. 

They’re lying in bed, and she watches indulgently as he plays this game, watches his hands on her body, and he doesn't even care that she's totally on to him. He thinks sometimes she gets him better than he gets himself.

"You get off on being bigger than me." 

He's not embarrassed at being called out on it, having got lost in considering their bodies, and it’s not as if he could hide it, anyway, lying naked beside her. "Yeah," he admits, and raises his eyes from their clasped hands to take in the little smile playing around her mouth.

He surges up to kiss her hard, and they get lost in it for long moments that stretch as they move against each other, he lets go of her hands to stroke up her arms and into her hair. God, he just can't get enough of her kisses, her touch. She moves him like no one ever has. 

They gradually pull back, turned on but not urgent, a low level of arousal thrumming between them-- from kissing, from her brushing her knuckles across his nipples, from him palming her breasts, from grinding against each other just … enjoying their bodies and how they make each other feel, instead of rushing to the next orgasm. 

She smiles into his eyes, leans back from him, puts her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks. “You like hands, don’t you?”

He nods. “I like your hands.”

“Yeah, you do. You like yours on me, and you like mine on you.”

He shivers as she runs one down his body, all the way to his dick, which she brushes lightly--it makes him twitch involuntarily--before tickling over his balls. She cups them, resting there. He arches into her and sighs.

“And you really liked it when I knotted you, right?”

He can’t stop the flush from blooming on his cheeks, his ears. It’s not shame, though, that makes him color, it’s awareness of the intimacy of it. “You know I did.” His voice is low, but sure.

She twitches her fingers where they’re by his balls, strokes lower, to his perineum and closer to his ass. 

He has a sudden thought, a wish, a flash of want that zings through him and he looks up to meet her eyes again, wondering if she’s gotten there ahead of him yet again. God, this woman. 

They both start to speak at the same time, then chuckle. 

“You go,” she says.

“No. You,” he says. “Please.”

“I want to know what you’re thinking,” she says, low, and her eyes are so dark.

He breathes out slowly. “I loved it, loved feeling what you feel when it’s me knotting you,” he says softly.

“But?” 

“I …” He holds her eyes for a long moment. “I wish it didn’t take a toy, to feel that from you.”

She raises her eyebrows, but he thinks it’s agreement, awareness to what he’s thinking, rather than asking a question. “And?”

He forces himself to breathe through the butterflies that have sprung up in his stomach, making his breath want to come shallow and fast.

He closes his eyes. “I want, I want …” he stutters as she brushes her fingertips over his hole, delicate and teasing. 

Her voice is low, throaty, when she says, “Please tell me what you want, Derek,” and she punctuates it by pressing down with her index finger, and he can feel his muscles flexing and giving against the pressure.

He shudders and draws a ragged breath. “I want it to be you, Braeden, all you, up inside me.” He opens his eyes and sees her looking at him so intensely. “Not just your fingers, but I want you to knot me with your … your fist, okay?”

She holds his eyes, gaze intense. “I needed to hear you say it. I didn’t want to be talking you into something. You. You’re _sure_.” It’s the barest hint of a question.

He shivers at the meaning in her eyes. Makes himself answer. “Really sure.”

.ii.

Later, when she’s got three lubed fingers deep inside him, he’s panting and full, wanting more, but hovering on the edge of overwhelmed. Her knuckles nudge at his prostate and his dick twitches and leaks, precome oozing over his hypersensitive skin. He groans and grabs a handful of the sheets to keep himself from grabbing his dick and coming his brains out.

“You good, babe?” Braeden’s hand stills and she strokes his thigh with her free hand. 

“So good,” he forces out, through clenched teeth. His nerves are firing, his skin prickles, he wants but he doesn’t know what, exactly.

“I can … back off a little?” she says, fingers inside him motionless.

He takes a deep shuddering breath and nods. “Yeah. Maybe.” He’s distracted, for a moment, looking at her, takes in her hair loose and wild around her face, her earnest expression, the rise and fall of her breasts in her thin tank top, the strip of skin between it and her panties. The smell of her arousal, the sound of her heartbeat, quick: he holds the scent and the sound of them like a lifeline. 

“Braeden, I--” he can’t for the life of him make more words come out.

She puts a hand on his lower back, grounding him. “Here, babe.”

“I need …”

“You want a break? We can take a break,” she tells him, and pulls her hand free, gently, pressing against his hole before pulling away, so he doesn’t feel so empty. 

He trembles, trying to relax, and pulls at her arm. She regards him a moment, then shucks off the glove, drops it into the trash and leans in to press a kiss to his mouth before standing. “I have to wash my hands, okay?”

He nods mutely and watches the long lines of her legs, her ass as she retreats into the bathroom. His eyes have slipped shut when she gets back so he misses being able to watch her approach, but she climbs over him straddles his waist, and she reaches for her tank to pull it off, but he puts out a hand and stills her. “Leave it on?”

She smiles slowly and says “That’s doing it for you, hm?”

“Yeah,” he says. There’s something about the way the fabric stretches over her breasts, her nipples hard, the fact that he’s completely naked and she’s not. She’s exactly right: it’s doing good things for him.

He draws her down against him and holds their bodies together, folding his arms across her back, sighs at the feeling of her resting soft and heavy above him. He runs his hands down her sides starting at the fullness of her breasts and coming to rest on her ass for a moment before reaching down feel between her cheeks to the heat of her. He shivers as he feels her grind down against him, the dampness of her panties mixing with the scent of her, and he shudders deep. 

He hooks his fingers in the waistband and gently pulls; she gets the message and shimmies out of them so he can feel her heat against his dick and he twitches hard, rolls them so they’re facing each other. He knows by her smirk that his heart’s in his face, but he doesn’t care. Raises his eyebrows at her and shoves her onto her back just to take her by surprise. It works, but he watches her eyes darken farther and she says, “Feeling like you need to assert some dominance, I see how it is.”

He laughs a little. “What if I am?”

“No complaints here,” she says lightly.

But he feels gut-punched at the way it makes arousal shoot through him when she raises her arms deliberately, tucking them behind her head, wriggles as she gets comfortable, spreads her legs for him.

“Jesus, Braeden,” he breathes, and she cocks an eyebrow at him. He hovers for a second and then swings a leg over her, holds himself above her and watches her slow smile. He lets his eyes travel over her body, traces lightly over her scars to see her shiver, drags his fingertips over her breasts and rubs gently at her nipples, watching them harden further and it makes them both gasp.

He moves down and noses at her belly, pushing her top out of his way, letting his fingers graze the roundness of her breasts and relishes the way it makes her breath hitch. He presses kisses to her skin, licks and sucks at her belly and hipbones. He breathes in deeply the scent of her arousal, the slickness he knows he’ll find when he gets to her cunt.

“Derek?”

He looks up, meets her eyes. “Get on with it, seriously, or you’ll heal all that stretching we did already.”

He lets his mouth twitch at her. “It was a chore for you? Boring?”

She gives him a _bitch, please_ kind of face and he nods minutely. “Message received. You’re impatient, desperate for my mouth on you, and my werewolf healing is … a convenient excuse.”

She blinks, slow, and looks even less impressed. He moves so he can touch her cunt with a careful finger, finds the slickness he knew would be there, rubs it around lightly, through her folds and toward her clit, before moving it away. He watches her draw a shuddering breath. “I rest my case,” he says, but his breath catches a little, too.

“Fuck you,” she tells him, but it’s without heat, even a little breathy. “I’m not gonna beg.”

He raises his finger deliberately and licks it clean. Her taste, it makes him want to lie down and howl. He watches hungrily as her breasts heave underneath him. It makes his dick throb to see her affected by him.

He loves getting taken apart by her, but it’s good to mix it up. He smiles at her once more, slow and sweet, before putting his mouth on her. She twitches hard, and her fingers find his hair, as he licks along her opening, spreads her a little with his hands and pushes his nose toward her clit. It’s overwhelming, musky and sour, and so, so good. When he gets his tongue on her swollen clit he swipes it hard and has to move fast to hold her down by her hips as she thrusts into his face. She lets out a frustrated groan as he moves lower again, putting his tongue in her and sucking on the folds around her opening before licking up to her clit again. He can hear her heartrate spiking and her fingers tighten in his hair. “You have to tell me what you want,” he says, speaking right against her cunt. “You want fingers? Want me to suck your clit?”

She groans again and says, “Derek, jesus, just … get me off already.”

“Thought you weren’t gonna beg.”

“That’s not begging, that’s just telling you to get the fuck on with it.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he obliges, putting a wet, sucking kiss on her clit, and slipping two fingers into her, her wet heat surrounding his fingers and making him shudder. He keeps licking at her clit and thrusting gently into her with his fingers until she tenses and draws in a heaving breath, tightening up under her until she pushes at his head, and he moves off her, rests his head against her thigh, pulls his fingers gently out of her. He’s satisfied, sated, grounded by her orgasm. 

“How are you feeling, babe?” she asks, stroking his hair. “Ready for more, now?”

“Mmm,” he says, breathing deep against her, rubbing his face against the soft skin of her thigh to make her hiss. 

.iii.

She’s got a couple of gloved fingers back inside him and makes a considered “Hm,” stretches a little more, and he sighs. She can practically see the contentment as he settles into his skin. She’s never been with anyone like him before, someone for whom getting her off, making her satisfied, is as deep a need as his own. She’s always been good at getting what she needs, no matter what, but this … this is something else. 

“You didn’t heal up so much, you’re still pretty loose,” she remarks, and he relaxes into it a little more. 

As she adds in another finger Derek tenses minutely, and she bets his erection’s starting to flag so she pauses, waits patiently till he relaxes again. He’s up on his knees, with his head resting against his folded arms. She can’t see his face and he’s not talking so she has to pay close attention to what his body’s telling her. 

He breathes, and she scritches her fingers along his thigh, making a low, comforting noise. “You’re doing so well, Derek.” She maneuvers carefully until she can rub a knuckle carefully over his prostate, reminding him that the point is to feel good, and he twitches hard, sac pulling up a little. “That’s it,” she says, and stills again, letting his body adjust.

It takes long, patient minutes, of soothing and stretching and soothing again, of running her free hand over his dick and his balls and the small of his back, crooning to him about how well he’s doing, how much he’s taking for her. 

Finally she’s ready to try tucking her thumb in, but she has to pause a moment, the reality of her _hand_ in his _ass_ making her dizzy. A jolt of arousal courses through her, making her nipples harden against the thin fabric of her top and for a moment she just wants to … to forget this entire thing, roll him over, ride him hard and wild, take him that way. She’s panting a little at the thought, and she has to rest her head against his hip, just to calm herself down.  
“Braeden? Babe?” Derek’s voice is raspy, but of course he’s checking in with her.

“I’m good.” She breathes. “How are you feeling, baby?”

“So full, I …”

“Yeah? Is it good? Is it what you wanted?” Talking to him is helping bring her back to the moment, and she twists her hand just the slightest bit, to make him shudder. He lets out a breathy moan and want pulses in her cunt again. “You’re gorgeous like this,” she says, almost without awareness of speaking the words aloud. 

He makes a muffled negative sound and she takes a breath. “Is it good, Derek?” she repeats, needing to hear him say it. 

“So good,” he’s still muffled, but she knows he means it. It scares her a little, sometimes, how much he’d do for her; she wants to be sure that he’s doing this because he wants to, too. Her hesitation must be evident because he picks up his head, cranes his neck around to meet her eyes, and he nods, eyes wide. “Are you about to …” He trails off.

“If you’re ready, if you’re sure?” 

“I want …” His eyes flutter shut as she pushes against his prostate. “I want it, for you to knot me with your fist, I want it.”

“Tell me if it’s too much, we can stop _any time_ , I mean it.”

He nods, and his eyes slip shut again. Braeden takes the moment to add more lube, around the edges of where she’s pressed inside him, a big dollop on the base of her thumb as she pushes … just like that, he gasps so big and ragged it’s like he’s taking in all the air in the room. She says, low, “Can you widen out …” and he moves for her, adjusts his knees farther apart, arches his back just the littlest bit more, and she carefully, carefully pulls her fingers in around her thumb and just … holds steady. 

Her own breathing’s quick and shallow, and Derek’s still taking these big rasping gasps and she says, “Derek?” her voice pitched higher than usual, and no wonder: she can’t take her eyes off the place where her hand’s disappeared inside of him.

He answers her, just barely nods, and says, brokenly, “Just … don’t move yet, okay, it’s … a lot.” She stays perfectly still, the way she’s learned to over years of hunting. She can hold still as long as he needs. She watches his muscles twitch and long moments go by before she can see and feel him relax incrementally. 

She steadies herself against his hip as he sags a little, and it’s killing her that she can’t see his dick, can’t see where he is in this right now. She wants to tell him to get a hand on himself and see if he can get off with her filling him up like this but maybe … maybe it’s too much. She waits, hyper-aware of her own body, her own breath and her arousal, but she forces herself to make this about Derek.

He shifts minutely and she can see-- _feel_ \--that he’s experimentally moving his hips. She holds still, letting him set the pace, decide what he wants. His movements get more deliberate, not thrusting back, exactly, just twisting and rocking a little. She hears him sigh, the familiar, breathy sound of his arousal, and she lets out a breath, can feel her mouth widening in a trembling smile of relief. 

“Baby?” 

“Unh, yeah,” he pants, and oh god, he’s so aroused. Braeden presses her lips together, rests her forehead against the curve of his ass, lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.

“You feel good?”

He moans and rocks against her, and she feels weak all over, nipples and cunt and hands all twitching involuntarily. 

“Touch yourself for me, Derek, put your hand on your cock, I need to feel you come around me, while I’m knotted deep inside of you,” and she can hear the echo of similar words from when he’s the one knotting her, his need to feel her come around his knot. 

His answering groan makes her think he’s remembering that, too, and she watches him shift his body enough to grab his dick, can feel the rhythm of his stroking himself in time with rocking his hips on to her fist. She focuses on holding still, just letting him take what he needs from her, but she can’t help the shuddering breaths she’s gasping out, just watching him take his pleasure this way. It’s mesmerizing, and she’s not ready to be done when he gasps out, “Braeden, Brae, I’m close.”

She can’t help it then, twists her fist so her knuckles hit his prostate straight-on and he tenses and shouts as he comes. The pressure around her hand is unbelievable, how hard he’s clenching on her, and if she thought her knees were weak before? Wow. 

They both still and then she eases out, helps him lie down on his back, checks him carefully. He’s red and puffy but there’s no tearing that she can see and she goes to clean up. She brings a warm cloth, wipes his ass and spreads a towel to blot up the wet spot so they can lie down. She’s finally lost her shirt, needing to be skin-to-skin with him, to feel him against her. 

They curl up together, sighing sleepily, and he buries his face in her neck as she strokes his hair. She can still feel arousal in her belly, dampness between her thighs, but … she can wait. She feels a little dazed and she bets he does, too. 

She can feel his damp breath against her neck when he picks his head up enough to speak. “Next time, I want to be able to see your face, okay?”

She bites hard on the inside of her own cheek, and blinks. Next time? She’d hardly dared to hope beyond this time. She resumes stroking his hair, and, smiling, says, “Anything you want.”


End file.
